


A Trap Sprung

by NightRain712



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Major Character Injury, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Stiles-centric, Violence, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightRain712/pseuds/NightRain712
Summary: He's alone in the woods when it happens - something bad, something real bad. Now he needs help, and that's almost worse. But then an unlikely stranger turns up offering help, and well, he's not really in a position to say no, now is he?Or:Stiles gets his foot caught in a brutal bear trap (in the middle of a woods during a zombie apocalypse) and Derek comes to his rescue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not sure how I thought this up, but the Muse struck, so I ran with it.
> 
> For any one curious and/or squeamish, Stiles does get injured in the leg rather violently, while fending off an attack, so that's where the violence/injury tag came from (and because it's a zombie au there will be more violence in the future.) At the moment there's not much for me to tag for, but I will later on as I write more, if you need me to add something.
> 
> As far as how much damage an actual bear trap would inflict: I have no idea what would actually happen to his leg. I did try to research this, to make it more realistic, but I got conflicting results, and I decided to just go with my fictionalized version for this story. And since Teen Wolf didn't show us on the show what would've happened to Lydia's leg (up close) I made up my own result. Yes, I'm aware there were other characters in the episode who did get injured by the traps, but I'm ignoring that since they didn't show the injuries close up, and also there are didn't kinds of traps for different animals that vary in strength and heavy-duty-ness (like if it was designed to simply capture vs actually maime the animal) 
> 
> Feel free leave your thoughts below, or anything else. Just, please no hate comments or trolling. Or if you want to pitch me an idea for this story, or a different story, my inbox is open! Betas are welcome too.

The sharp sound of metal clinking is soft in the air, and he almost doesn't hear it, but the feel of the metal beneath his foot is unmistakable. It's hard against his foot even through the thick construction boots he chose to wear today (and what a good, smart choice that was!) He looks down and sees it - the bear trap - with it's sharp teeth poised and ready to attack. It hasn't yet, because by some miracle, Stiles hasn't shifted his foot and set it off, but it could, at any moment.

His heart races, and he tries to remember what happened to Danny in gym class when it was him and a bear trap, in the forest preserve.

He can't remember.

His phone is useless in his pocket, and he curses for the umpteenth time not having any service to use it out here.

A bird caws somewhere, within his hearing range, and he wants to yell at it to shut up, but that would be counterproductive.

Looking down, he wonders how good his chances would be of removing his leg unharmed if he tried to deactivate the trap. Not good, he thinks.

"Okay, Stiles," he mutters softly to himself. "You can do this, you can totally free your leg without having large sharp metal jaws snapping it in half."

He bends over at the waist to get a better look at it and can see immediately that he has no clue what to do. He is so screwed.

"Fuck."

A twig snaps in response, and he freezes, his heart pumping quickly. He looks up to see a lanky body walking in the distance, not having noticed him yet, sort of bumbling about.

It's one of them. Fucking mother fuck!

Stiles panics a little, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He looks around the rest of the forest, behind him and to the sides, and sees only the one Walker so far. He'll be lucky if it doesn't notice him.

It moans uselessly as it wonders around, stumbling over it's own feet on the forest floor. A rock trips it's foot and it falls down, head turned towards Stiles. He swears quietly and tries to hide behind the tree he's inches from, all without removing his foot from the trap.

He's not exactly hidden, but he can't see the Walker, so it'll have to do.

He looks around the ground, searching for a branch within reaching distance, and sees nothing. He also hears nothing. What?

Peeking around the tree, he sees the empty space where the Walker was, and cold sweat breaks out on his forehead. Where the hell - ?

Snarling sounds behind him and Stiles turns around quickly to see the Walker less than a foot from him, hands already outstretched to grab him.

He yells in surprise and fright, grabbing hold of the Walker at the same time and trying to push it back. It's deceptively strong, not budging at all.

Stiles grunts, bear trap forgotten in the sudden panic, and his caught foot slips when the Walker shoves forward. His foot lifts off of the trap for a second, half of a second, even, but that's all it takes.

The steel jaws ascend with the bite force of a wild predator, jagged zigzag teeth entering flesh and crunching on bone. The pain itself is almost crippling, and Stiles loses balance at the same moment.

He's crying, and screaming in pain as he lands on his back, taking the Walker with him. It settles on him heavily, knocking the breath from him, and he quickly grabs its hands in his own, pushing them up as a barrier between him and it's mouth.

Smelling blood in the air, the Walker attacks with renewed frenzy, like a shark, and Stiles kicks it away with his good foot. It rolls away and he reaches into his belt to grab his knife, unsheathing it just as the Walker attacks again. The knife practically sticks itself into the Walker's chest as it lands on him, but of course that does nothing.

"Fucking shit!" He curses. He yanks the knife free again and struggles to get past the flailing arms long enough to stab it somewhere useful - like it's brain.

"Motherfucking - !" The Walker snarls ferociously, acrid spittle flying from it's mouth to land on Stiles' face. If smells could kill...

It scratches him in the face, mouth coming dangerously close to his wrist, and Stiles yells, shoving the knife into it's head, through skull and the squishy dead matter below. It gurgles at him and falls still, a literal dead weight on him.

Stiles pants into the ensuing silence, staring up at the blue sky above.

He shoves the Walker off of him, pushing it aside, and sits up carefully, looking around the forest. He doesn't see any more Walkers - yet.

A sharp throbbing in his leg reminds Stiles of his biggest concern - the bear trap tearing and crushing his leg. Fucking shit!

"Jesus fucking motherfuck!"

The trap is pure metal, cold and unforgiving, and he sees no immediate way to unlock it from his leg. "Fuck." Stiles knows there's some way to unlock it, all of these fucking traps have an unlock mechanism, but he's screwed if he knows what it is.

 

**

The sun is almost set when Stiles lays back against the ground, giving up on the trap for the moment. He's been fiddling with it all day since killing the Walker, trying to free his leg. But he can't keep this up for much longer, for many reasons. Blood loss, hunger, exhaustion, being so exposed and vulnerable in the middle of nowhere, to name a few. Stiles is lucky there's been only the one Walker so far. He's sure more will come, eventually.

Groaning quietly, Stiles curses his life and his luck and sits up to try to improve his situation before the light fades, and with it, his protection.

 

**

The trap isn't going anywhere, no matter what he does.

Stiles wants to lash out, but the only attention that'll gain him is the wrong kind.

Swallowing back on a dry throat, he leans forward again, this time his knife in hand.

The jaws don't move even a tiny inch, but then Stiles supposes he wasn't really expecting them to. He could try the next best thing, though: undoing the chain and walking off, trap and all.

A rustling sounds somewhere, echoing in the open space of the trees, and Stiles squints in the darkness trying to see.

It's a pretty useless feat, and he feels around the trap with his hands to locate something he can undo the chain with.

A bird cries out overhead and he fumbles to hurry, panic creeping in again in the dark.

The chain is made of thick steel rings, like a necklace, just bigger. And he knows each ring is capable of opening, so -

Something tumbles about in the trees, like a kicked rock, and Stiles freezes, listening, before fumbling for the ring closest to the trap jaws.

Leaves rustle and Stiles hurries to shove the knife in the steel loop, forcing it deep and twisting, trying to open it.

Another bird caws, followed by more noise, and then a body crashes through the trees into his clearing.

The loop opens and he scrambles his fingers to unhook it from the others, praying to a God he doesn't believe in that it wasn't another Walker.

The loop is only halfway undone when a light suddenly turns on, flashing straight to him and blinding him.

He covers his eyes instinctively, almost screaming out of some mixture of surprise and fear.

The light wavers, moving all over the place, and then it's not shining in his face anymore, not completely at least. When he lowers his hand, the other still holding his knife wedged in the steel loop, he sees a burly looking man holding the flashlight, staring at him.

Their eyes meet and it's several long tense moments of silence, while Stiles' thoughts race. Who is this man? Is he dangerous? Is he going to kill him and raid his body for supplies?

The man steps forward and Stiles shuffles back on his ass, free hand raised in warning.

"Hey hey, woah, no!" He says to the stranger. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You're caught." The man says, swinging his flashlight to point at Stiles' bloody leg.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that." Stiles says, frustration evident in his voice. "Kind of hard to miss what with the crippling pain and all."

The man's face hardens, his brows lowering over his eyes. "Do you want my help or not?" He asks.

"How do I know you're not planning anything nefarious?"

"Nefarious?" The guy repeats in disbelief.

"Yeah, like pretending to help until I lower my guard, and then wham! Kill me and steal my valuables!" He gestures vaguely with his hands to illustrate his point, but the man's face is still pretty blank.

"Don't you think," he says after several long quiet moments, "that if I wanted to kill you, I would have already?"

Stiles opens his mouth in protest.

"I mean, you're pretty vulnerable like this," the man continues, gesturing at Stiles' everything with a shotgun he hadn't noticed before now. Stiles swallows uneasily, gaze caught on the firearm, on the additional threat. "You're pretty easy pickings."

Stiles glares at him, knowing it's true. But he wouldn't go down without a fight, that's for damn sure!

"Anyways, I just figured I'd offer my help, since it's dark out and there's a lot of undead in the area. But if you think you've got it, then by all means, I'll just be on my way."

The man turns to head back the way he came, and Stiles debates with himself on the genius of accepting a stranger's help.

"Okay, wait!" He rushes to say. "Don't go!"

The man turns to him, eyebrow raised, waiting.

"I could use your help, if you're offering." It almost pains Stiles to admit it, but it doesn't make it any less true.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" The guy says, a hint of mocking in his tone.

The man walks over to him, settling his gun out of reach and pointing the flashlight at Stiles' foot. He whistles lowly when he gets a good look at it.

"Man, you did a real number here, didn't you."

"Yeah, I ran into a bear trap on purpose." He mutters.

The man levels a hard look at him, turning back to the contraption.

"Well this isn't going to be easy to remove, I'm sure you're aware."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"And unfortunately I don't have the knowledge to do this myself. But there's a man in my settlement, Deaton, who could help." The man picks up the knife still in the loop (which Stiles had forgotten about briefly) and before Stiles can protest it, the man is finishing the job Stiles tried to do. The loop comes free and now the trap and the confining chain are two separate entities. He hands the knife back to Stiles, handle first, and looks at him.

"As I see it, you have a couple of options."

"Yeah? What are they?" Stiles asks as he takes back his knife.

"Well, first, I could help you remove the trap from your leg, but I think it's a pretty safe bet to say you'd die from blood loss."

"Always fun." Stiles mutters.

"Two, you could try to go wherever you were going with this thing on your leg, but you'll probably be caught by an undead sooner rather than later."

"Is there a door number three?" Stiles asks faintly.

"Yeah." The man says. "Option three, you can trust me and take your chances with me. I have a doctor of sorts, and a certified nurse, at my settlement, and we have supplies and protection."

"Protection?"

"Mhmm." The man nods. "We have a pretty strong barricade against the undead, and guards on watch. We haven't had one get in for a long time."

"How long is a long time?" Stiles asks.

"Long enough." He says. "So? What are you going to do?"

Stiles looks at him, doubt and skepticism large in his mind, but for whatever reason, he wants to trust this man.

"If I went with you, then what if I wanted to leave?"

"You wouldn't be a prisoner." The man says, forehead furrowed with disbelief . "You could leave whenever you wanted. There are rules that would have to be abided by, but those are in place for the safety of the community."

"What are they?"

"How about this, you come with me, and I'll tell you some of the rules on the way there."

"Why not now?" Stiles asks.

The man looks around them, gesturing at their surroundings with his finger.

"Do you really want to wait out here while I go over every single aspect of my settlement? In the dark, in the middle of the woods? While you still have a bad leg and there are undead walking around?"

"Yeah, you're probably right." Stiles agrees.

"So?" He asks. Stiles looks at him. "Do you want to come with me or not? What do you want to do?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I guess I'll go with you. Better than bleeding out in the woods, or being Walker-chew."

"Alright then." The man says, standing up. "Come on then, we've got a walk ahead of us." He extends his hand for Stiles to grab onto, and Stiles takes it, letting himself be helped up.

The man grabs hold of Stiles' arms, slinging one over his shoulder while he grabs onto Stiles' waist. They walk carefully, since Stiles can't put any weight on his injured leg at all, and the terrain of the forest is rough and uneven.

After several long minutes of quiet, Stiles finally speaks up. "You know, I still have some questions for you."

The man snorts. "I'd be more surprised if you didn't."

"Like, what's your name? And what are you doing in the woods in the first place?"

The man grins at the "path" ahead of them. "Ya know, I could ask you those same things."

"Hmph." Stiles glares at the leaf-covered ground, annoyed by his response.

"My name is Derek." The man says, gently readjusting Stiles' weight.

Stiles looks at him, trying to make out his features in the minimal moonlight. "Derek?"

"Derek Hale."

Stiles nods. "I'm Stiles." He says.

"That a nickname?" Derek asks.

"Yeah. My real name is tough on the English tongue."

Derek snorts. "Fair enough. Do you have a last name, Stiles?"

"Stilinski." He confirms.

"Stiles Stilinski? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously!" He glares at Derek's amused profile.

"Okay, alright. Stiles it is."

Stiles mutters to himself, only half of it decent language.

"What were you doing in the woods anyways?" Stiles asks again. "And how did you find me?"

"I was scouting." Derek says. "One of the guards had noticed more undead at our gates than usual, so I thought I'd take a look around the area, see if there might be something attracting them here."

"And me?"

"You I just happened to find."

Stiles frowns at this, the answer rubbing him the wrong way.

"You just found me? Just like that?"

"Yeah. I mean, I heard a lot of noise in the area, probably from when you killed that undead, and I heard your screaming."

Stiles looks at him warily. "Yeah, but you showed up hours later."

Derek huffs, like Stiles is a child he's trying to explain a simple concept to.

"I heard you scream, because you were loud, but I was still far away. I'm walking, remember?"

"Okay, sure." Stiles says, still feeling uneasy.

"What were you doing in the woods?" Derek shoots his question back to him.

"I was trying to get to Beacon Hills." Stiles says.

"Beacon Hills?"

"Yeah. That's where my dad is, or - was - the last time I talked to him."

"That's funny." Derek says. "Beacon Hills is where I'm from."

"Oh yeah? Me too. I grew up there. I just moved away for college, when all this happened."

"Hmm."

They lapse into silence for another while, just focusing on walking straight. Stiles' hip is starting to cramp real bad from the awkward way he's walking though, so he asks for a break. They stop and Derek deposits him on a fallen tree to rest, sitting down next to him.

Stiles' breathing is a little harder then before, and he wishes he had some water.

"Where did you say this settlement was?" He asks.

"I didn't." Derek says. "It should be another few miles or so from here, though."

"Oh geez." Stiles groans. "I'm never going to make it!"

"Sure you will." Derek says.

"No! Seriously, Derek! Everything is going to fall off and stop working. I doubt I can walk another fifty feet, let alone a whole nother mile! Or more!"

Derek rolls his eyes and stands up, and Stiles fears for a moment he's scared him off, that he's going to be left here alone. But then Derek is pulling him to stand and stepping up to him, his back facing Stiles.

"Come on then." He says.

"Wha-what?"

"You said you can't walk anymore, I'll carry you. Now get on."

"Are you sure? I mean, you said it yourself: it's a couple miles, Derek! And I know I'm skinny, but I'm not light!"

"Just get on my back, Stiles." It's practically a growl.

"Yeah, okay." Stiles says, placing his hands on Derek's shoulders. "I'll just ride on your back for a mile, no big deal."

"It will be if you don't hurry up."

"Okay okay!"

Derek grabs Stiles around his thighs, crouching at the same time as Stiles jumps slightly, and he straightens up with Stiles clinging to his back. The weight off his leg is already better, and Stiles sighs into Derek's neck, wrapping his arms around the man's throat/chest/shoulder area. Derek starts walking right away, his pace easily two or three times that of what they were averaging before.

It's quiet while they walk, almost peaceful, or relaxing, and Stiles tries not to enjoy the feel of the man under him too much. In other circumstances, this kind of thing might even be romantic.

"Thank you." Stiles sighs quietly. He's not sure if it's just for carrying him, or for not leaving him to die alone in the woods also. Either way, Derek replies. "You're welcome."

Stiles tries not to fall asleep, not entirely certain that would be a good idea right now, and instead focuses on looking out for any Walkers. He doesn't see any.

 

**

The sun is almost up when they arrive to what must be Derek's settlement. The trees break and Stiles sees a small town encircled by a large steel wall. It looks tough, thoroughly built. There are two men standing guard at the gate closest to them, and they easily spot Stiles and Derek. Derek is quick to call out to them before the men raise their guns to them.

"Roger, Ned, it's me. Derek."

The men nod, exchanging greetings while they open the gate just enough for Derek to slip through with Stiles.

"Where's Laura?" He asks them.

"Down in the infirmary." One of the men answers. "Cora injured her ankle just before you got back."

Derek makes a frustrated noise and walks away from them. "It's a good thing that's where we need to go anyways." He mutters.

They walk towards one of the smaller sized buildings and enter it, Derek walking up to a steel door behind a counter. He kicks at it twice with his foot and it slides open from the inside, a descending staircase on the other side.

"Down we go." Derek says.

There's no light down here, just darkness, but as soon as they reach the last step, a light turns on, illuminating a tunnel. Derek carries him down there, and Stiles isn't sure if he should be scared or not, but his heart is pounding faster anyways.

"Where are we going again?" He asks faintly.

"You'll see."

"So helpful." He snarks.

The tunnel splits into two and Derek follows it to the left, soon stopping in front of a door on the left side. There's a medical logo on it, two snakes and a staff, and Stiles reckons it's the so-called "infirmary".

The door opens at his command, and a black bald man with a goatee ushers them inside.

"Derek." He greets them.

"Deaton." Derek says, the name familiar to Stiles. "This is Stiles, he needs your help."

"Of course." The man agrees easily. "Here, I have a spare cot set up over here."

Derek sets him down on the bed, moving out of the way of the man, who comes close to examine Stiles' leg.

"That is a nasty injury." He says lightly, as if talking about the weather. "But don't worry young man, I'll get you free and fixed up in no time."

"Oh, good." Stiles says.

"Deaton," Derek says, drawing his attention. "Ned told me Cora and Laura were both here?"

"Ah, yes. They're in the next room. You shouldn't worry though, Cora's injury is very slight: a sprained ankle. Shouldn't take more than a week to heal; assuming she follows my directions."

Derek's hard expression doesn't change, but he nods to the man and turns to Stiles. "I'll be back in a few minutes. You'll be safe with Deaton." Then he exits through a different door than they came through, and Stiles is alone with another stranger.

"So, Mr...?"

"Stilinski."

"Mr. Stilinski. Interesting. Well Mr. Stilinski, I'll have you fixed in no time."

He smiles at Stiles, pulling on a pair of gloves and wheeling over a tray with medical tools and supplies on it. Stiles gulps nervously.

"You can lie back, if you'd rather not watch." Deaton says. "Unfortunately this isn't the first time I've dealt with a bear trap."

Stiles nods and settles on his back, eyes turned to the ceiling. He can hear the man fiddling with the contraption, and he's not sure if that makes him feel better or worse.

"Okay," Deaton says. "I have it unlocked now. The next part will be to remove it, and unfortunately there's no way for me to avoid it causing you pain."

"It's gonna hurt?" Stiles asks, imagining it and remembering the pain of it going in, chomping down on his leg, all the way to the bone.

"Yes, it's going to hurt." Deaton confirms.

"Oh Jesus." He swears.

There is no count of three before Deaton starts prying the steel jaws from his leg bone. The constant ache that settled as a throbbing in his leg transforms into white hot pain, encompassing him from his toes to his head.

He screams as Deaton did whatever he was doing, and Stiles doesn't notice Derek coming back into the room and grabbing his hand. But then the pressure on his leg is gone and Stiles feels faint, and kind of nauseous.

"It's okay, Stiles," he hears. "Your leg is free. Now we can fix it."

"Uh huh." He mutters, eyes closing. His leg was on fire, tingling and throbbing, half numb and half livid. It was worse than breaking his arm in third grade.

He heard voices talking, and could feel things being done to his leg, but he was too out of it to really pay any attention. It was a long time before everything stopped, and he noticed a hand pushing the hair off his sweaty forehead.

"Stiles?"

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes sleepily and saw Derek above him.

"Deaton's done now, if you want to sleep."

He nodded his agreement with that plan. "Yeah, sleep..."

"Alright." Derek said. "We're gonna scoot you up the bed so you're not at the edge anymore, and then you can sleep."

"Kay." Stiles says.

Derek chuckles under his breath and Stiles closes his eyes. A few moments later, with Deaton holding his bad leg off the bed, Derek helps Stiles scoot up the bed until he's resting on the pillows. His right leg is propped on another pillow and Stiles tries to ignore it.

"He should be off of it for a while," he hears. "Especially since I don't have any pain relief to give him."

He hears Derek's voice in reply, the two men talking quietly, and then he's letting sleep drag him down into sweet nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

When Stiles wakes up, he's warm under a pile of thick wool blankets, and he doesn't even remember his injury or anything at first. All he knows is he's been sleeping on a real bed with real blankets for the first time in weeks, and it's nice. The bed is slightly lumpy, the mattress too thin, and his hips are cramping a little from his position, but otherwise, he's so comfortable.

Some noise from the other side of the room draws Stiles' sleepy attention, and he sees the back of a woman with large, frizzy brown hair. She's wearing blue-green medical scrubs.

"Oh, you're awake." She says pleasantly, when she turns around and sees him. "Good. I was just about to check your dressings."

"Who are you?" Stiles asks, a little groggily. He's waking up more now, though.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I'm Melissa." The woman says. "I'm a nurse."

"Hi." Stiles replies. "I'm Stiles."

"Nice to meet you, Stiles." She says. "If it's alright with you, I'll just see how your leg is doing."

He nods his agreement and watches as she goes about exposing his leg from under the blanket, and removes his bandages. The air is much colder on his leg than he thought it would be, and it brings the reminder of pain with it, although it's not actively hurting at the moment.

"Man, you really hurt yourself, kid." She says, examining his leg.

Stiles snorts, amused.

"What's so funny?" She asks.

"Just - my rescuer said the same thing last night." He says.

"Your rescuer?" Melissa asks, rubbing a cleaning agent on the stitches.

"Mhmm. Guy came out of nowhere and carried me back here from the middle of the woods, like a freakin' Disney prince, or something."

"You remember his name?" She asks.

"Derek Hale, he said. Do you know him?"

She smiles more warmly at Stiles suddenly, hands busy with applying Neosporin or something to his leg before re-bandaging it.

"Yeah, I know him. He practically is a prince, around these parts."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Him and his sisters started up this place. It was just them at first, and a few people they knew. But then as they found more people, took in strays, and built this place up, people just kinda looked to them as leaders - saviors."

"I guess that includes me now, too, huh?" Stiles muses.

Melissa gives him a thoughtful look, pulling off her gloves and cleaning up the bed of medical supplies. She pulls the blanket back over Stiles' leg, and he relishes the warmth.

"It could." She eventually says. "I know it might not seem like it right now, but you don't owe any of us anything for helping you. We're not those kinds of people. If you wanted to leave and never see any of us again, you're well within your rights. Nobody's going to keep you here against your will."

Well, that was a relief. Derek said the same thing himself last night, and Stiles is glad at the confirmation.

"Where are we, anyways?" He asks instead. "Do you know where Derek is?"

"I don't know where he is." She says apologetically. "He's probably making sure this place doesn't burn to the ground without him. But as for the other thing: this place is called Dublin, don't ask me why, I don't know that either. But it's a little south of a town called Beacon Valley."

"I know where that is." Stiles says. "I grew up in Beacon Hills, just north of there."

"You too?" She asks. "Well, welcome to the club. Just about everyone here migrated from Beacon Hills. I'm sure you'll fit right in, if you choose to stay. Anyways, I need to get going. I have other patients to check on, and I need to see where my son has gotten to. It was nice to meet you, Stiles. I'll come back in soon to check on you again."

With a smile and wave, she's gone.

Despite her friendly attitude and easy going personality, something about her words concerns him. Everyone here migrating from Beacon Hills? Is the virus outbreak really so bad it hit his tiny hometown? The place located in the definition of nowhere? What does that mean exactly? And does it affect his dad? Is he still there? Is the town itself still there?

**

The next person to visit him is the man who fixed his leg last night, Deaton.

"Glad to see you're awake, Mr. Stilinski." He greets calmly. "How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Not really." Stiles says. "Only when I try to move my leg."

"Hmm." The man hums, looking at his leg again, but not messing with Melissa's handiwork.  
"Unfortunately I don't have any narcotics for pain relief. We ran out about a week ago. My suggestion is that until we get some more, or your leg heals more, than you stay off it as much as possible. We also don't have an x-ray machine, so I can't know for certain if the bone has broken. I'm guessing not, though. We do have a pair of crutches if you'd like to walk around."

"Yeah, that'd be nice. I hate staying still."

Deaton nods. "Has anyone come by yet with food?"

"Uh, no." He says, stomach rumbling at the mere thought of food.

Deaton's eyes crinkle at the sound, but he doesn't mention it.

"I'll send someone by." With that, he's out the door, and Stiles is back to his lonesome.

**

"Hey." A soft voice stirs Stiles out of a light doze he fell into, and he looks to see Derek back in the room, carrying a tray of food.

"Ooh," Stiles murmurs happily. "My savior is back, and he bringeth food!"

Derek's lips turn up at the corners, nearly hidden by his mountain man beard, but Stiles sees it.

"Yeah, Deaton mentioned you were hungry, and I wanted to check on you."

"Thanks." Stiles says, digging in happily the moment the tray is set on his lap.

Derek sits on the edge of the bed next to his left leg, and he watches quietly as Stiles eats.

"How are you feeling today?" Derek asks him.

"Better." Stiles replies, after swallowing a mouthful. "You know, considering..." Derek nods.

"I know it's only your first day here, and you haven't even stepped outside yet, but I have to ask you if you've thought about what you wanted to do now that your here and your leg has been seen to."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asks, thoughts focused halfway on his meal.

"I mean, do you plan on staying here with us, temporarily, or forever? Or are you going to leave as soon as you can?"

Stiles pauses in eating, looking up at the man perched on the bed.

"I'm asking you because I need to know for the sake of my people here." Derek explains. "Whatever you choose to do is fine, if you want to stay or go, or just see how it goes. But I would like an actual answer. I don't want my people to feel unsafe."

Stiles looks at him, thinking it over seriously.

"Can you tell me what's happened in Beacon Hills?" Stiles asks him.

Derek's eyebrows raise sightly at the unexpected question.

"I was going to go there and look for my dad, since the phones and internet are down. But obviously I can't right now. And Melissa said everyone here migrated from Beacon Hills, and, I want to know what that means?"

Derek looks at him quietly, and Stiles isn't sure what to take from his silence.

"Derek, is the town gone?" He asks, voice soft with worry. "Did the virus reach there too? Do you know anything at all? I mean, if I did leave and go there, is it just going to be a waste of my time?"

Derek sighs, turning away from him to look around the room. He rubs a hand over his mouth, and Stiles doesn't like this at all.

"I don't know." Derek eventually says. "I was in Beacon Valley when the infection spread, and my sister was with me. We fled the city. We were on our way to Beacon Hills when our other sister found us, and we came here instead."

"You didn't ask her what happened?" Stiles asks.

"Of course. But she wouldn't talk. She was injured, and traumatized, and neither me or Laura wanted to make it any worse by making her talk. We asked her if we could, or should, go back, but she just said no. I would've found out by now if I could have, but I haven't had the time or resources to go there."

Stiles looks down at his half-eaten plate of food and contemplates what that means for him and his dad.

"Look, Stiles, I don't know what happened there, if it's still standing or not. What I do know is that my little sister is scared to go back, and more and more people from there have found their way here."

"I need to go there." Stiles says. "I need to find my dad. I have to know if he's there."

Derek looks at him contemplatively, before nodding his head at some decision he's come to.

"I'll take you there." He says.

"Wait, what?" Stiles says. "You just said your sister was scared to go back!"

"I said my sister was scared." Derek explains. "I never said I was."

"But, I thought you, like, ran this place? Can you even leave for that long?"

Derek shrugs. "Technically, my sister, Laura, runs it. She's the real leader. I just do the heavy lifting."

"Are you sure? We just met, and I'm not sure how I feel about asking this of you."

Derek just pats the knee digging into his side comfortingly.

"You're not asking," he says. "I offered." 

"But why?" Stiles asks.

"Because." Derek says.

"Because? Because why?"

Derek just smiles at him and makes for the door.

"Finish your food." He says over his shoulder.

"Because isn't a good reason, Derek!" Stiles yells out to his retreating back. The door slides shut behind him, and Stiles sighs before turning back to his food. It really is quite good, despite or maybe because of, it's simplicity.

**

"So, I hear you're the new kid on the block."

Stiles looks up from reading some random book given to him by Melissa, and sees a curly hair blonde guy leaning against the door jam.

"And you are?"

The guy raises an eyebrow, but walks further into the room, the door a soft hiss behind him.

"Isaac." He says. "I'll be with you and Derek for the trip up to Beacon Hills."

"Oh. Cool. I'm Stiles."

"I know. Derek said."

"Right." Stiles says.

Isaac looks him up and down, taking in his rough appearance and his bum leg.

"How'd you injure yourself?" He asks.

"Got caught in a bear trap." Stiles replies.

Isaac winces in sympathy. "Ouch. I've been there. Not fun."

"No." Stiles agrees. "I almost died, too."

Isaac runs his eyes over him again, eyebrow raised. "Is that so?"

Stiles rolls his eyes at him.

"Yeah. The trap didn't even go off until some Walker attacked me." He lifts a finger to point at the scratches on his cheek. "It almost ate me."

Isaac smiles at him, more of a smirk, really. "Did Derek kill it for you?"

Stiles frowns at him. "No, actually. He didn't show up for hours after, until I was nearly free."

This time both off Isaac's brows go up. "You killed it yourself? While trapped with that jaw around your leg?"

"Duh." He says. "I know what I look like, but I'll have you know I'm not some helpless kid in need of rescuing."

He doesn't know why he says it like that, but Isaac glares at him.

"So, if Derek hadn't found you, and brought you here, you're telling me you'd be fine, right now?"

Stiles narrows his eyes at him, sensing a trap of some kind.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying." He says. "I'm glad Derek decided to help me and everything, but I would've been fine if he never showed up. I'm not a damsel in distress."

"I never said you were." Isaac says.

"But you were thinking it."

"So? You said it yourself, you know what you look like: a kid. You look like you can barely handle cooking for yourself, why shouldn't I think you can't handle yourself out there? You did show up injured, literally being carried by Derek."

Stiles rolls his eyes at the argument - he has a feeling no one is ever going to let him live that down once they know about it.

"I'm small, sure, but I'm more capable then you'd think."

"Mhmm." Isaac agrees sarcastically.

Stiles glares at his attitude. He hates that this guy, who doesn't even know him, thinks so little of his capabilities. He's killed plenty of Walkers, before that unfortunate incident with the bear trap. And he's been fending for himself long before this zombie apocalypse thing started. He doesn't need this shit.

"Look," Isaac says, ending their impromptu stare-off. "I'm just here to see who my boss is risking his neck for. It's one thing to bring back a stranger in need. It's another to take him to a town that everyone knows is forbidden."

Stiles' eyebrows lower in confusion, but Isaac is already out the door before he can question him.

What? He thinks.

**

The next day Dr. Deaton comes by his room with a pair of crutches. He helps Stiles stand, and adjusts the height of the crutches to their proper setting for Stiles to use. He watches Stiles practice on them for a little bit, checks his leg again, and basically discharges him. He tells Stiles to go easy and to come back everyday, though, to make sure his leg heals properly. Stiles is bummed about it, but he can deal as long as he's not stuck in there twenty-four seven.

Derek hasn't come to see him again yet since he brought him lunch, and Stiles wonders what he's up to.

There's a kid that volunteers to show him around, though. A tan brunette who happens to be nurse Melissa's son, Scott. He seems vaguely familiar, but Stiles ignores the weird de ja vu in favor of paying attention to his tour around the settlement. Scott shows him around the labyrinth that makes up the underground tunnel system they have, and promises to show Stiles around the topside the next day. Stiles would do the second half of the tour today, but he's actually quite tired from walking around in the crutches. Scott doesn't mock him or judge him for being tired, when he notices, thankfully. Instead he shows him to a room full of beds that all seem occupied. It's like some kind of weird dormitory that everyone shares, but nobody seems to mind.

Scott finds an empty bed in a decent spot for Stiles to get to with his crutches, and Stiles watches curiously as the few people in the room leave, all seemingly headed in the same direction.

"Where's everyone going?" He wonders aloud.

"Dinner." Scott answers him.

"Everyone eats together?" He asks.

"Usually. I mean, not everyone does, like whoever is on guard duty or injured, or out on a scouting trip. But whoever is here and wants to, yeah. Are you hungry? You wanna go check it out?"

Stiles nods his agreement, eager for more food. "Yeah, definitely."

"Cool. Let's go."

Scott leads him around the little village until they reach a building Stiles would swear up and down was a church. But when the doors open ahead of them, two girls slipping in first, it's not at all what he expects.

It's been turned into a banquet hall. The pews have been removed, except for four, which face both sides of a long table that sits squarely in the middle of the room. There's a piano sitting in a far corner, facing out into the room, and candles litter the table, lighting up the room and reflecting off of the stained glass windows.

"Oh wow." Stiles murmurs.

"It's nice, huh?" Scott grins at him. "Come on, let's introduce you to everyone."

Scott shows him to the table, where some people are already seated, and others are tidying up or setting down food. Stiles doesn't see any of the few people he's meet so far.

"Hey Scott, whose this?"

They turn to see a pretty brunette girl looking at them, and Stiles sees Scott's face immediately blush and he grins at her.

"Allison, meet Stiles, he's new."

"Stiles?" She repeats, trying out the name.

He nods at her and smiles back.

"Nice to meet you Stiles," she says. "I'm Allison."

"Hey." He greets. "How are you?"

Another pretty girl pops up out of nowhere, also a brunette, but she doesn't smile at them. She sets down a dish of food and takes off just as quickly.

"Who was scary?" Stiles asks in her leave.

"That was Cora." Scott says.

"Cora?"

"Derek and Laura Hale's little sister." Allison supplies. "She has a bit of a temper."

"Oh." Stiles says. He wonders where her limp is, if she's really supposed to have a sprained ankle, like Deaton said.

"Stiles!"

He turns around at the shout and sees Melissa entering the church (banquet hall?)

"Since you're up, I'm guessing you're feeling better, right?" She asks.

"Yeah. Deaton gave me some crutches so I could walk, and Scott's been showing me around some."

"Not too much, I hope." She says, turning to look at Scott.

He shuffles next to Stiles and shakes his head. "No, just the tunnels so far. I thought tomorrow after breakfast I'd show him the village."

"Ok." Melissa agrees. "Just remember to take it easy." She says, turning back to Stiles. "You won't heal faster by overdoing it."

"Yes ma'am." He agrees.

Melissa kisses Scott's cheek and goes to talk to someone else.

Scott and Allison are talking quietly, heads pressed close, when Stiles turns back to them. He looks away to survey the rest of the room, and is surprised to see Derek walking into the Hall from outside. Derek doesn't seem to see them, because he goes to talk to Melissa and a scruffy man her age.

"Stiles? You wanna sit down with us?" Allison asks him a moment later, smiling at him invitingly.

He looks to her, about to say yes, but then a hand lands on his shoulder gently. A different voice Stiles is already starting to recognize responds.

"Actually, Allison, I'd like it if Stiles sat by me tonight." Derek turns his head to look at Stiles, talking to him directly now. "If that's alright with you?"

"Yeah." He agrees. "Fine by me."

"Good." Derek says quietly.

Scott walks over to the table, hand in hand with Allison, and Stiles follows Derek. Derek sits to the immediate left of the chair at the head of the table, leaving the seat open, and gestures Stiles to sit to his left.

Soon enough the table fills up, and a beautiful brunette woman comes into the Hall and takes the seat at the head of the table, facing the entrance and the entirety of the room.

"Welcome to dinner, everyone." She greets, smiling at the happy responses she gets. "I'm glad to see you all safe and sound for another day. Today is yet again a special day, as my brother tells me we have a new guest." She flicks her eyes to Derek, who gets a weird expression on his face briefly, but then she looks to Stiles, smile still in place.

"Everyone, please say hello to Stiles, who will be joining us tonight."

A chorus of hellos ring out through the room, amplified by the acoustics of the church, and Stiles blushes faintly under the sudden attention. He waves awkwardly in return, to which a few people chuckle.

She nods, satisfied, and claps her hands once. "Great, now let's eat."

Almost at once, noise erupts in the room; chatter, clinking silverware, the sounds of chewing and laughing, and the echo of everything at once. Stiles is almost startled out of his seat by the light atmosphere.

He looks around the room, eyes settling on the woman at the head chair, and then to Derek, whose already looking at him. He hasn't started eating yet.

"You okay?" Derek asks him.

"Yeah." Stiles says. "I guess I was just expecting things to be more - "

"Sad?" Derek guesses.

"Yeah." Stiles nods. Honestly, the lack of a somber group is kinda freaking him out.

"It was at first." Derek tells him quietly, trying to keep their conversation private. "But with kids around, and everyone coming together and supporting each other, it's hard to stay sad for long, even with everything going on outside these walls. But that's exactly why they're there. To protect this." He nods to all the happy, relaxed faces around them.

"We want to preserve this for as long as we can, before the outside gets in."

"It makes sense." Stiles agrees. "That's why I'm looking for my dad."

Derek nods at him, and the woman at the head of the table catches their attention then.

"So Derek, why don't you introduce me to your friend, here?" She smiles at Derek, and Stiles can just glimpse the authority beneath it.

"I feel so rude," she continues, turning to Stiles. "I know your name, and you don't know mine."

"Laura, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is my older sister, Laura." Derek waves between them with his hand, keeping the introduction short.

"Hey." Stiles says, glad to place the face to the name.

"So, Stiles, how long are you planning on staying here?" Laura asks him, lifting a forkful of food to her mouth.

"Laura!" Derek hisses.

"What?" She says, turning to her brother. "You never told me what he said."

"That's because it doesn't matter yet. He's only been here one day."

"So? I need to know these things Derek."

Derek opens his mouth to reply, but then another voice cuts into the conversation, and all three of them turn to look at Deaton, whose gazing upon them calmly.

"So, Stiles, how exactly did you get your leg trapped in that steel jaw? I'm afraid in the emergency of the previous night, I didn't get a chance to ask."

Stiles looks at him, unsure if he should be grateful for the interruption of the sibling's increasingly awkward conversation.

"I was on my way home when I just stepped on it." Stiles says.

"And it activated right away?" Deaton asks him.

"No." Stiles says slowly. "A Walker snuck up on me and sprung it."

A hush falls over the table, and Stiles sees everyone looking at him.

"What?" He asks uneasily.

"How does an undead just sneak up on you?" Cora asks him from directly across the table. She's scowling at him.

"Well, it didn't really. I mean, it kind of did, but not really. Not exactly."

"Well which was it?" The youngest Hale sibling snaps at him. "Either it did or it didn't."

Stiles glares back at her, confused about her sudden attitude towards him.

"My foot was in the trap when I saw it." Stiles tells her, aware of all the extra ears listening closely. "It hadn't gone off yet when I saw the Walker. The thing fell down and was looking towards me, so I tried to lean back behind the tree I was next to. It was too quiet, so I looked to see if it was still there, and it wasn't. Then it was behind me, and I fought it off. The trap went off, and I killed the Walker."

"And then what?" A teen boy asks from further down the table excitedly.

Stiles looks at him, and then to the rest of the table. Everyone seems enthralled by his short tale, even the Hale siblings. Derek less so, probably because he was there for half of it, and Cora looks less angry. He mentally shrugs before continuing.

"And then I tried to get free."

"How?" The same boy asks.

"Well," Stiles says. "There was a big link chain attached, so I undid one of the loops."

"Not completely." Derek says from next to him, and everyone looks to him.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Well if you hadn't interrupted me  and blinded me with your flashlight, I would have done it."

"You weren't even close to getting free." Derek says.

"Of course I was." Stiles argues.

"No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was. You finished the job, but I put in all the effort."

"Mhmm. And what about me carrying you here?" Derek asks, a smug grin tilting up his lips.

"You mean after I walked half the way here with you?" Stiles retorts.

"You walked on a bag leg?" Laura asks.

"He still had the bear trap wrapped around his ankle until we got here." Derek supplies.

"It's a wonder you didn't wake the camp with your crying." Cora snarks. "You were blubbering like a baby from next door to my room."

"Actually, Stiles didn't cry or complain about it at all." Derek tells her. Stiles wonders why he's looking so mad at his sister.

"Could've fooled me." She says. They exchange glares.

"You know, I cried when my leg was caught in one of those things last year." Isaac speaks up suddenly from Stiles' left.

When did he get there?

Cora cuts her gaze to him, expression suddenly unreadable.

"I cried the whole time." Isaac says, looking only at Cora. "I couldn't imagine how tough it must've been to have been caught in one for hours, by himself before Derek arrived, and not cry. And then to walk so far before accepting to be carried. He must've been tougher than me."

Cora looks at Isaac, glances at Stiles and Derek, and then focuses on her food, without saying another word.

Stiles isn't sure what just happened, or why, but he thinks Derek and Isaac stuck up for him, maybe? Isaac refuses to catch his eye, and Derek looks oddly satisfied, but everyone else goes back to their own conversations, so he chooses to eat.

**

It's too quiet. Stiles thinks. And not in the way he's use to. Soft breaths fill the air where wind is supposed to rustle the trees, and snores crackle instead of crickets. He hears the occasional murmur of someone asleep talking to themselves, and everything is too loud and different for him to fall asleep.

Stiles huffs in frustration and rolls carefully out of bed, pulling on his shoe and leaving the sleeping room with his crutches.

The outside air feels a little better, but Stiles feels antsy, like he needs to move. He awkwardly walks around the sleeping town, passing by several buildings before stopping to sit on a bench.

The moon is bright tonight, although it's not full, and the cloud cover is minimal. So he sees the figure of someone walking up to him from the same direction he came from.

"Stiles." Derek greets him.

"Derek." He greets back.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks him.

Stiles shrugs. "Sure. I guess."

"Can't sleep?"

"Not really." Stiles confirms. "It's too - people-y in there."

Derek's brows lower at him in confusion.

"I suppose I'm just use to sleeping outside now, ya know, surrounded by nature and all that."

"You slept well last night." Derek says.

"Last night I passed out in exhaustion after an extremely stressful day." Stiles points out.

"What are you doing out here?" Stiles asks after a moment.

"Same as you. Couldn't sleep."

"Oh. What's keeping you up?"

"You." Derek responds.

"What?!" Stiles says, heartbeat startled into a faster pulse. "What did I do?!"

"Relax, you didn't do anything." Derek says, smiling at him faintly. "I was just concerned about you."

"And you couldn't sleep?"

"Mhmm. Seems so."

"Oh." He's not sure what to make of this.

They sit in quiet for several moments before the air is broken again.

"Did you want to try sleeping with me?"

The question startles Stiles again, and he looks over to Derek, who seems unnervingly relaxed.

"What?"

"I don't mean like that." Derek says after a moment, when he sees the look on Stiles' face. "I meant sleeping next to me, in my bed. Human contact can help sometimes, after a traumatic event."

"What makes you think I'm traumatized?" Stiles asks moodily.

Derek points to Stiles' right leg, which is bandaged so heavily to where it's almost a cast at this point.

"After the day you had yesterday, I'd be highly surprised, and suspicious, if you weren't at least a little traumatized. I know your leg certainly is."

Stiles snorts, but nods. He isn't opposed to the idea of sleeping with Derek, in either context. The man is good looking, okay? And, he'll admit - at least to himself - that he's lonely enough, and traumatized enough, to deem it a good idea.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Derek asks.

"Okay." Stiles agrees. "Let's sleep in the same bed, why not? It's not like we're strangers or anything."

Derek snorts, eyes rolling in amusement, but he stands and offers a hand to Stiles.

"Come on, then. I'll show you to my room."

**

They walk deeper into the village than Stiles has been, in the same direction where he was headed before sitting down. There are no lights on anywhere, but for the moon overhead. It's okay, though, because Derek obviously knows where he's going. They pass by a lot of buildings and several houses before Derek stops in front of one in particular. It's set way back from the rest of the village, and it's significant smaller than any of the other houses they passed.

"You live here?" Stiles asks curiously.

"Yeah. My sisters did too, for a while, but not anymore."

Derek helps him up the front steps and Stiles' question of 'why' is forgotten when the front door is opened.

The inside looks like a loft someone just transported from somewhere else and left here. Wide opens spaces, with a living area, a kitchen in the back separated by a half-wall. There are a couple doors, and a spiral staircase to the left that leads upstairs, to the actual loft. The furnishing is minimalistic in style, which he likes, but something tells Stiles it has more to do with the state of the world than any actual interior decorating choice.

Just like with church turned dining hall, Stiles is pleasantly surprised and impressed.

"I like it." He says. "Can't imagine why your sisters would move out."

Derek relaxes minutely at Stiles' comment, and he leads him carefully up the spiral stairs to the bedroom.

Beyond the door, it's just like downstairs  with it's open spaces and airy feel. The bed is just a mattress and box spring, with sheets, pillows and a blanket. It's set against the wall, facing the door with the windows to the right and a small dresser to the left. In the corner is a fake indoor plant.

Derek helps him sits down on the bed, and sits next to him. They take off their shoes, and Derek helps him to lay down properly, and he mimics Stiles' position. They face each other in the dark, and Stiles isn't sure what to do now. Well, he should be trying to sleep, that's why he's here, but it's a little weird, to be laying in bed with a stranger. A handsome stranger, but a strange man nonetheless.

"Stiles."

Derek's soft voice pierces the air, and Stiles looks up from the chest hair peeking out of his shirt to see Derek looking at him. Stiles is a little sad it's too dark to make out the color of his eyes, even from this close.

"Yeah?"

"Sleep?" Derek says, like it's a reminder and a suggestion rolled in one.

"I'm not sure I can." Stiles says back.

"Why?"

"Because. This is a little weird."

Derek's eyebrows furrow, confusion overtaking his face again.

"I thought that's why you agreed to come over? You thought this would help?"

"No. You thought it would help." Stiles says. "I agreed because you're good looking, and there are plenty of reasons why I should've said no, but just as many why I should've said yes."

Derek still looks confused, so Stiles just shrugs.

"I honestly don't know why I can't sleep right now. I'm plenty tired."

Derek's lips thin out for a moment, but then he scoots closer and gently rolls Stiles over onto his left. Stiles doesn't protest when Derek cuddles up to him, his arm coming around his waist and their legs entwining. Derek's breath tickles the back of his neck, his body is almost too warm, and it's supremely weird to be touching someone so intimately. But despite all of this, and any other weirdness, it's also really nice. It's comfortable, and soothing, to be held by another person.

They don't talk after the transition to cuddling, and Stiles finds himself drifting off to sleep fairly quickly.

Derek snores reach his ears just before he slips under. He smiles, unsure what pleases him more: that Derek fell asleep first; that he snores, or just the fact that he's here and cuddling Stiles (voluntarily, almost enthusiastically!) and that it feels so nice.

He doesn't worry over it and instead enjoys it, falling asleep with a warm body next to his.


End file.
